


Chaperone

by gunmetal_ring



Series: Camp [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunmetal_ring/pseuds/gunmetal_ring
Summary: "You think I need a chaperone?"Henry meets Daryl on his way to Hilltop with Carol. (Season 9, episode 7 "Stradivarius")
Series: Camp [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058195
Kudos: 4





	Chaperone

Henry’s riding with his mom to Hilltop, and while he's not sure if she's affected by the silence between them, he certainly feels awkward.

He knows she had - always has - his best interests at heart, and even though it's beyond frustrating sometimes, like it was last night, he knows he's lucky. A lot of the other kids he knows don't have parents. Don't have anyone to look out for them the way his mom and dad look out for him.

So he owns up to it. "Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about what I said last night." He pauses, and adds, "And... thank you."

His mom just looks at him, and he's relieved to see forgiveness clear on her face. "It's okay. You're safe and that's all that matters." He can tell she means it, and just like that, they're good.

She turns her attention back to the road, and he catches a glimpse of her hands as she urges the horses on.

She's wearing the ring.

He'd watched them take the ring.

How does she have the ring?

He feels her eyes on him, and he jerks his head forward, but he can't help sneaking another glance.

_She's wearing the ring._

He knows his mom is tough - she lived through her last husband, and she did what she had to do to survive until she found the Kingdom - but this? This is something much more than that. Much harder.

It's unsettling.

There's always been more than meets the eye with her, but he's now realizing just how deep that well may go.

Before he can dwell on it too long, he notices that she's veering off the road to parts unknown. "Where are you taking us?" He can't find a marker for a detour or shortcut, and adds, "Seems like we've gone clear off the map."

"You keep your eyes on the road, mister. I know where I'm going."

But _where_ are they going? Where are all these surprises coming from? "I know, but -"

She suddenly stops, and there's some guy standing in front of them.

He looks _feral_ \- long dirty hair, carrying a bunch of logs in a weird hooded jacket, just staring at them. Henry's worried for a moment - is he going to rob them? Kill them?

But then his mom says, "Need a ride, stranger?" and the tone of her voice indicates that this guy is most certainly _not_ a stranger.

The guy smiles, hops in, and Henry's left wondering, _again_ , what else he doesn't know about his mom.

\--

They climb out of the wagon and Henry's pieced together that this must be Daryl.

He’s choosing not to focus on everything that happened last night, and instead tries to understand why they’re hanging out with this guy in his creepy, weird camp.

They push through the foliage, and his mom suddenly grabs him, warning, “Careful. Traps everywhere.”

Henry looks around and sees that, yes, there _are_ traps everything – a bunch of holes in the ground with pointy sticks, ready-made torture devices just waiting for the wrong move.

 _This_ is his mom’s best friend?

Daryl doesn’t bother speaking to them, either. He’s just carrying a bundle of logs and walking right past the barely-covered motorcycle and racks of drying animal skins like they don’t even faze him.

They probably don’t.

But then his mom asks, “You didn’t fix the boat since last time?”

Henry's flabbergasted. Since _last_ time? How many times has she been here?

But of course Daryl just ignores her, petting his dog and fiddling with the decomposing hand that it just dropped off for him.

Henry's struck again by just how _wild_ this guy looks; long dirty hair falling into his eyes, clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in months, covered in scars and not speaking a word to them the entire time. He hasn’t even eaten in a day or two, judging by the way he ignored Mom’s question.

But then the two of them go off to hunt, and Henry’s a little relieved. His mom can take care of herself, and she says Daryl’s her best friend, so she’ll be fine. There’s just something weird about him, and Henry would rather not spend any more time around him than he has to. How can someone make it alone in this world? Henry can't imagine living in the woods by himself, without any help from anyone else, without someone to guard him while he sleeps, without _company_. If Daryl's capable of that, what else is he capable of?

He thinks about it a little longer, though, and wonders if the reason they're best friends is because his mom's capable of that, too.

His mom did _something_ to those guys from last night, and he doesn't care to explore that much further. She's got a _very_ odd friendship with some guy that seems like the last person Henry would want to cross on the street, let alone find hiding in the woods. She apparently takes secret trips to this weird hideaway in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by primitive minefields and animal carcasses, and isn't at all concerned about her safety. Isn't at all disturbed by any of it.

Henry doesn't know why she's deemed him ready to meet Daryl, but he thinks he'd much rather stay ignorant of his existence.

Eventually, Henry gets bored of poking around Daryl's creepy camp, and sits down to hang out with the dog. He's friendly, and Henry runs his hands through the shaggy coat, wondering how on earth it survived the last decade or so.

Although, come to think of it, the dog's kind of creepy too.

Henry says as much when Daryl and Mom get back to camp and Daryl starts cooking whatever stew he’s got. Dog lays half a rotting foot on the ground, and Daryl doesn’t seem too put off by it. So Henry asks, “Your dog always do that?”

He tries to keep the disgust out of his voice, but judging by Daryl’s expression he didn’t do a very good job of it.

“Well, he’s got his reasons.”

That doesn't answer anything, but it certainly confirms this guy's kind of a dick.

Then, of course, Daryl dumps the foot in the fire, because it’s not gross enough to have to eat _near_ a foot, they have to eat on _top_ of the foot, but his mom changes the subject in that lighthearted lets-be-pleasant voice she uses when she's trying to mediate an argument.

“I’m impressed. This is really nice, you cooking for us. You’re good at this.”

Is she serious? He shoots an incredulous glance at his mom when she says this, because Daryl’s literally _ripping the skin off a snake_ in front of them, but she pretends not to see him.

“I’m sure there’s people at Hilltop who know how to cook,” Daryl says, without missing a beat, and stands up, walking off to god-knows-where.

Henry stares at his mom, wheels turning in his head, and she’s carefully looking at the fire.

“Wait. Is this why we came here? ‘Cause you think I need a _chaperone_?” He doesn't bother holding back his disdain this time, and he adds, “And _this_ is the guy.”

His mother narrows her eyes at him, starting to scold him, and Henry lowers his voice because he _knows_ what that sharp tone means, but he can't help but push.

“I can handle myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

Henry's about to argue - she _is_ saying that, more or less, by giving him a chaperone - but Daryl chooses that moment to interrupt. "About thirty minutes and the food’ll be ready.”

Henry doesn't think it will be particularly appetizing, but he doesn't want to start another fight, so he lets his silence speak for him.

His mom’s got her perky voice back when she says, “Well, good! That’s just enough time.”

Daryl furrows his brows and asks, "Time for what?"

\--

It grows dark, more quickly than expected, and Henry occupies himself by fiddling with the tattered raft while his mom gives Daryl a haircut across camp. He's not sure how a haircut will make Daryl look any more civilized, but given how irritated Henry is with the two of them, he's grateful for any space he can get.

They’re just far away enough that Henry can’t really hear what they’re saying, and he can’t tell if they’re speaking quietly to keep him from eavesdropping or because the tone of the conversation demands it.

He looks over at them, and they look back at him.

There’s something oddly intimate there, hanging between them, and it makes Henry uncomfortable. He catches glimpses of that sometimes between his mom and dad, but the fact that it's so readily present makes Henry wonder just how close their friendship was before his parents got married.

Daryl tells them dinner's ready, and they sit around the fire to eat.

\--

Henry was right; the food is not particularly appetizing. The meat is gamy, and the broth is bland, and he's fairly sure he can _taste_ vestiges of the walker foot Daryl threw into the fire earlier, but he's polite enough not to criticize it.

He looks over at Daryl, and feels a little guilty about judging him so quickly. His mom cares about him, so there's clearly _something_ good about him. And he didn't have to cook for them; this is probably his first meal in days, so it's generous of him to share his food with two people he didn't expect to show up in the first place.

Maybe he should make an effort.

Henry's still a little wary - Daryl had refused to acknowledge his mom's questions earlier, but he seems to have chilled out a little during the haircut, so maybe he'll be more amenable this time around.

He gathers his nerve - he _is_ genuinely curious - and asks, "How'd you get the scar, anyway?"

Daryl shoots a glance at Henry's mom, but neither of them respond, and after a few moments Henry realizes he isn't going to get an answer.

Instead, Daryl grabs the fourth plate and beckons for his dog to eat, draining his own bowl and tossing it down with a little more force than necessary.

Henry looks over at his mom and again wonders _why_ she's friends with him - he's a dick, that much is clear, and nobody can say Henry didn't try.

\--

They get ready for bed, and Henry's mom falls asleep next to him almost immediately. It doesn't come quite as quickly for Henry, and he watches the shadows of the trees play across the fabric of the tent in the moonlight.

But then the shadows become a little more erratic, and Henry realizes that someone - maybe some _thing_ \- is moving just outside.

He creeps out of the tent, trying not to make a noise, and spots something behind a tree a few yards away.

He shines his flashlight at it when he gets close, and whispers, "Daryl?"

It flips around, more quickly than Henry expected, and he jumps back when the walker starts lunging at him, baring its teeth and emitting that hair-raising screech only the dead can make.

Something grabs his arm and a bolt of fear shoots through him until he realizes it's Daryl, forcing the flashlight down.

Daryl's got a menacing air about him, and growls, "You followin' me?"

Henry tries not to let his fear show. "What're you doing out here?"

Daryl stares at him a beat too long, but nods at Henry's flashlight and says, "Turn it off. Go back to camp."

Henry senses a veiled threat behind his words - an underlying _or else_ \- but Daryl turns around to stab the walker, and heads further away from camp.

Well, Henry's certainly not going back to the tent; he refuses to be intimidated by _anyone_ , let alone a man who won't give him the time of day, so he instead he follows Daryl, wondering where exactly it is they're going.

Soon enough, he hears a dog barking, and he hurries after Daryl to find the dog caught in several ropes, with a group of walkers surrounding it.

 _Why_ would Daryl have a setup like this? Is he just _waiting_ for animals to wander in and die?

Daryl shoots one of them with his crossbow and shoves it into Henry's arms, snarls, "Stay here," and runs towards the trap, trying to untangle the dog from the ropes.

But he doesn't move quickly enough, and a walker grabs his foot and yanks it, throwing Daryl off-balance and forcing the knife from his hands.

Henry doesn't even think before running towards him, but Daryl shouts, "Stay back!"

He hesitates - Daryl can't reach his knife, and he clearly needs help, but he doesn't want to piss him off and if anything happens to him, his mom will be absolutely _destroyed_ \- but he's relieved as he watches Daryl kill three walkers in seconds. He can take care of himself, that much is obvious.

That doesn't last long, though; Daryl's gone back to the dog and there's more of _them_ getting closer and closer, and when one of them breaks through Henry runs up and impales it through its chest with his staff.

He doesn't have time to kill it properly before he realizes that he's stepped in one of Daryl's stabbing-ditches, and a searing pain flares around his ankle.

Daryl kills the walker, and tries to get Henry's foot out for him.

Henry's sick of being mother-henned by everyone he meets; he can take care of himself, he's not some stupid inexperienced kid. He's _killed_ before. Living and dead.

So Henry shakes him off and snaps, "It's just a scrape," extricating himself without further injury, and shooting an irritated look at Daryl. Why are these traps just laying around, anyway?

Daryl thumps him in the chest in response. "I _told_ you to stay back."

He has the nerve to _scold_ him after Henry just saved his ass? Unbelievable. Henry says, with as much sarcasm as he can muster, "Yeah, you're welcome."

Daryl just shakes his head, yanks his knife out of a nearby skull, and heads back to camp, with Henry limping after him.

\--

Henry's sitting by the fire, resting his ankle before he sneaks back into the tent, and he catches Daryl changing his shirt near the river.

He's far away enough that he probably assumes Henry can't see, but there's scars criss-crossing his back, some more deliberately than others, and Henry's hit with another flare of guilt.

Daryl's still a dick, but it explains a lot.

He turns around, and Henry drops his eyes, trying to focus on the page in front of him, and looks up just in time to catch a jar that Daryl tosses at him.

"Use that. It's good for the infection."

Oh.

Maybe this is Daryl's way of apologizing. Or saying thanks.

Or maybe he really is just being nice.

Daryl sits down next to him and starts petting the dog, and Henry's suddenly aware of the awkward silence settling between them.

Daryl glances over at him, and says, "The dog checks the traps. Lets me know if I have a walker problem."

Henry nods, not really sure what to say to that.

Daryl turns back to the dog, and his voice is full of unexpected affection when he adds, "Never got stuck before, though.”

He turns back to Henry and looks him straight in the eye. "Anyway... Thank you for your help."

Henry's a little taken aback - he didn't actually _expect_ a thank you, and now he feels a little embarrassed at demanding one earlier. "Oh, it's no problem."

He feels obligated to return it, though, so he begrudgingly says, "Thanks. For, uh... saving me." He glances back at his tent where his mother's sleeping, and adds, "Can you not tell my mom about that, though?"

Daryl nods, and throws a stick for the dog to fetch.

He seems to sense Henry's judgement, but instead of lashing out or dismissing him like before, he actually explains himself.

"You know, the traps - they're not for animals. That's... that's no way to die, slow and painful like that."

Oh.

Henry's a little ashamed at having assumed the worst. Daryl clearly cares about animals, if the way he treats his dog is any indication.

Daryl continues. "I just wanna keep the walkers out. But there seems to be more and more of them lately."

Henry can't help but agree.

He feels a little more at ease, and thinks that Daryl might actually engage in conversation with him if he goes about it the right way.

So he says, tentative and wary, "You know, my mom... She says you're her best friend. The one who's always had her back, no matter what."

He pauses, wondering if he should push. He might as well.

"She misses you. She worries about you. You can - you can see that, right?"

Daryl doesn't bother looking at him, but he responds, much to Henry's surprise. "Well, She knows where I'm at. She knows how to find me."

His tone tells Henry that the conversation is over, but Henry's got one more thing to say.

"She shouldn't have to."

At that, Daryl actually looks up, holds Henry's gaze. "Is that what you want? Me lookin' over your shoulder all the time?"

Daryl knows better than that. So Henry simply says, "It isn't just about me."

He stands up, brushes off his pants, and heads back to his tent without another word, hoping that Daryl will make the right choice.

\--

The next morning, Henry's up earlier than he expected, but judging by the state of the camp, Daryl's been awake for much longer.

He's glad. His mom will like that.

Henry begins to gather his things for the trip, and when his mom comes out of the tent he's glad that she doesn't comment on his limp.

He tries not to listen too closely to their brief conversation, but from what he can tell, he was right. She's happy.

Henry's still a little annoyed by the implication, but he's glad that Daryl made the right choice.


End file.
